Who Killed the Ghost in the Library: A Ghost writer Mystery

by Teresa Watson

  Spooner shook his head. “But I did get a good look at her.”

  “So did Miss Shaw. She met with a sketch artist this morning. I’m going to have them fax over a copy of the composite they drew. I want you to see if you recognize her. You know the more witnesses that are able to identify a suspect, the stronger our case is.”

  “I’ll do what I can, Chief.”

  “What happened last night wasn’t your fault, Spooner. It was well planned and well executed. The important thing is you weren’t killed.”

  “I just wish I could have stopped them, sir.”

  “We caught the woman a little while ago,” I told him. “She went after Chief Penhall’s grandfather at the nursing home.”

  “Is he alright?”

  “He’s fine,” Mike said. “He might have a broken hip, but otherwise he’s doing just fine. I’m going to call the office and get that sketch for you.” He pulled out his notepad and pen from his breast pocket. “While we’re waiting, I want you to write down everything you remember about the incident last night. Sometimes you remember things when you write them down.”

  We left him alone and went back into the hall. “Why didn’t you let them check you out?” Mike said.

  “They’re just going to tell me I have a concussion, and that I should go home and take it easy.”

  “I don’t care what you think they’re going to tell you,” he said, leading me to the elevator. “You’re going to get an official diagnosis, and then we’ll go from there.”

  “What’s this “we” bit?”

  “I feel a bit responsible for what happened,” he said as the door opened. We got on and he pushed the button for the first floor.

  “Why? Did you put the explosives in your car?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Then I don’t see how it’s your fault. But I appreciate the concern.” The door opened and we got out. He took me to the nurses’ station. “I’d like her checked out as soon as possible. She was near my patrol car when it exploded this morning, and she was knocked unconscious for a couple of minutes.”

  “Of course, Chief,” the nurse replied. “Linda, would you take this young lady to Room 4, and make sure the doctor sees her next.”

  “What about my grandfather, Walter Penhall?”

  “They just brought him back from X-ray. He’s in Room 3. You should be able to go in and see him.”

  Three hours later, they finally released me, but Walt was going to have to stay in the hospital for a couple of days due to his broken hip. I didn’t have a concussion thankfully, and they told me to go home and rest. But they also suggested that someone stay with me for the next twenty-four hours just in case I started to feel nauseous or light headed. He called Randy, who volunteered to take the first shift.

  It was after three when Mike drove me home. There was a big scorch mark on the street in front of my house where his car had been, and a couple of windows were boarded up in the front of my house. “I’ll make sure someone comes over and replaces those,” he said as he unlocked the front door.

  “Thanks.”

  “Why don’t you get cleaned up? I’ll see if I can find something to eat in the kitchen.”

  I didn’t argue with him; I was just too tired. I stripped off my clothes, removed the splint, and took a shower. It felt wonderful, although it hurt my head a little bit where the knot was, but I didn’t care. Twenty minutes later, I came out of the bedroom, wearing my Eeyore lounging pants and a gray t-shirt. Randy was in the living room. “Where’s Mike?”

  “He left right after I got here,” he said, coming over to give me a hug. “How are you? He told me what happened in a bit more detail.”

  “I’ve certainly had better days.”

  “I heard your mother isn’t too happy with you.”

  “Definitely not. She thinks I put Grandma in harm’s way.”

  “From what I heard, your grandmother kicked some serious butt.”

  “Yeah, she did,” I smiled. “She hit the woman so hard she bent her cane. It’s totally ruined.”

  “I’ll make sure she gets a brand new one, sturdier than the one she had.”

  “She’ll like that.”

  “Well, your mother isn’t too mad at you,” he said, leading me to the kitchen. “She sent you some food.”

  On the stove was a pot of homemade potato soup (my favorite), there was a pan of cornbread being kept warm in the oven, and two slices of pecan pie (another one of my favorite foods) on the counter. “Did she say anything?”

  “Not much.”

  “What about Dad?”

  “I didn’t see him,” Randy said, pulling two bowls out of the cabinet. “Why don’t you get us some cheese?”

  As I got the cheese out of the fridge, I said, “Have you heard anything from Jo yet?”

  “Between you and Mike, she’s been pretty busy today. I’m going to call her after we eat to see how she’s doing.”

  Randy took the cornbread out of the oven, and I got our drinks. “I’m just wondering how the work is going. I’m curious to see what she finds out.”

  As we ate, I caught him up on everything that had happened. “Think I’ll get a chance to meet Amelia?” he said.

  I shrugged. “Mike told her not to leave town, so I’d say your chances are pretty good.”

  “Do you think she hired Yarborough to kill Cliff and Aggie?”

  “After talking to Walt, I don’t think so. If I had to guess, I’d say she signed the house over to Aggie to keep her family and the children from being publicly humiliated. On the other hand, if everyone in town knew about Stanley and Aggie’s affair, then they didn’t mention it to her to keep her from being embarrassed. Walt said she was well liked.”

  “If her father wasn’t the type of person to throw his weight around, then why did he put pressure on Walt to declare Stanley’s death a suicide and close the case?”

  “Maybe Mr. Underwood thought Amelia or Stanley IV did the killing. He was trying to protect them.”

  “Walt said the pressure came from the Underwoods and the Ashtons. Did Stanley III have any brothers or sisters?”

  “I don’t know. I finished sorting the papers, but I didn’t bring them with me. I’ll go through them when I go home and see what I can find.”

  “You aren’t staying here tonight?”

  Randy shook his head. “Nope, I’m being replaced around 10 p.m.”

  “By who? Mother?”

  “Nope, Mike.”

  “Says who?”

  “All I know is what he told me before he left.”

  “I suppose I don’t get a vote in all this.”

  “I don’t think so,” Randy said.

  Well, wasn’t this going to be an interesting, fun-filled night?

  Chapter 31

  Around five, I got a call from Artie, who told me that my car was ready, but I would have to come pick it up. Luckily, I hadn’t taken any pain medication yet, so I changed into another pair of jeans, a blue t-shirt and sneakers. Randy drove me over to the garage and dropped me off. He needed to go by the bookstore to see how things were going.

  My phone rang as I waited in the office for to Artie to bring me the keys and the bill. “Hello?”

  “Hi Cam, it’s Jo.”

  “How’s it going?”

  “I’ve found a lot of the information you asked for, and I was wondering if there was anything you wanted to check on.”

  “Could you do a search for Stanley Arthur Ashton IV?”

  “I’ve already done that, but I didn’t find anything past 1970.”

  “What about using his birthdate, give or take say five to ten years on the birth year? Maybe try plugging in his Social Security number, mother’s maiden name, a variation on the normal things?” I said as Artie came in and handed me the keys. “There’s no way he just dropped off the face of the Earth. Stanley IV is out there somewhere. Let’s see if we can find him.”

  She agreed to do what she could and hung up. “Thank you
so much for fixing my car again, Artie,” I said. “I’m certainly keeping you in business this week, aren’t I?”

  He laughed. “I might be able to take a vacation this summer if you keep this up.” He handed me the bill. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. You still doing research on that family you were asking me about earlier this week?”

  I nodded. “Trying to find a long-lost son. He seems to have disappeared. His mother told me last night she hadn’t heard from him in years.”

  “That’s a shame. No child should do something like that to their parents.”

  I agreed with him as I handed him my credit card. I signed the receipt, gave him his copy and stuck mine in my bag. “Thanks again, Artie. Hopefully I won’t have to call on you again this week.”

  “Like I told you earlier, I enjoy working on a classic car like that. They’re hard to come by these days.”

  I thanked him again, said goodbye, and left. When I got back to the house, I didn’t see Randy’s car. Instead, I saw an old blue and white Ford Bronco. Checking my watch, I saw it was only six p.m. Mike was early. Dang, I had hoped to be asleep before he showed up.

  He was waiting for me on the front steps, with a black bag sitting to his left and a grocery bag on his right. “What are you doing driving?” he said as I walked up.

  “How did you think my car was going to get home?” I said. “Did you think it was going to drive itself home?”

  “Artie could have dropped it off.”

  “He had plans this evening, and told me I would have to pick it up myself.” I pointed to the plywood that still covered my windows. “I thought your man was going to come take care of this today.”

  “He was already booked solid for today, but he assured me he would be here first thing in the morning. You don’t have anything to worry about; I’ll be here all night.”

  “I’m sure we’ll have tons of fun,” I said sarcastically as I moved past him to unlock the door.

  “Let’s call a truce, okay?” Mike said as he followed me into the house. “It’s been a long day for both of us, and I would prefer not to fight with you all night.” He held up the grocery bag. “I didn’t think you’d feel like cooking, so I thought I would grill some steaks, if that is alright with you.”

  “Knock yourself out. The grill is out back on the deck.”

  I changed into my lounging pants again while Mike warmed up the grill. I wandered into the living room, picked up the remote and turned on the TV. “Where do you keep your seasonings?” Mike called out from the kitchen.

  “The cabinet to the right of the stove next to the fridge.”

  “Thanks. There’s a baseball game on Fox Sports Southwest tonight if you’re interested. The Rangers are playing the Braves.”

  I switched to the game, put the remote on the coffee table, and laid down on the couch. The next thing I knew, Mike was gently shaking me awake. “Hey, dinner’s ready. Do you want to eat in the kitchen or here on the couch?”

  “Um, here is fine,” I said. “I’m sure you’d like to watch the game.”

  “It’s been a few days since I’ve had a chance to watch one,” he admitted. I started to get up, but he stopped me. “Stay there; I’ll bring you a plate.”

  I got up anyway, pushed the coffee table back a little bit, and set up two TV trays that had been stowed in the hall closet. “It smells great,” I told him as he put a plate down in front of me and another plate on the second tray.

  “I came in to ask you how you wanted your steak cooked, but you were asleep. I hope medium well is okay.”

  “Perfect.” Along with the steaks, he had made some green beans and salad. He went back to the kitchen, coming back with our silverware and drinks. I had to give him credit: he was a good cook, and I told him as much.

  “The one good thing about the weather here is being able to grill almost year round,” he said. “I want to experiment with some different recipes, but the grill I have at home isn’t that big.”

  “You can borrow mine any time you want,” I said. What the heck did I just say?

  “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

  “I’m curious about something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Why are you here, and why are you being so nice to me?”

  “I just want to be close by in case someone tries to come after you.”

  “You really think I know something that the killer doesn’t want anyone else to know?”

  “I think it’s possible. Better to be safe than sorry.”

  We ate in silence for a few minutes and watched the game. I was wondering how Jo’s search for Stanley IV was going when the doorbell rang. “Are you expecting anyone?” Mike asked me.

  “No.”

  He moved the TV tray out of the way, went over to his black bag and pulled out his Colt 1911 .45. Holding it down to his side, he unlocked and opened the door. “It’s just Randy,” he said, opening the door wider so Randy could come in. Mike put the Colt on the coffee table and sat back down to finish his dinner.

  “My, my, how nice and cozy!” Randy said as he came in carrying some files. “Playing house, are we?”

  I glared at him. Mike glanced at him for a second, then said, “I can easily reach my gun and shoot you. I’ll say it was self-defense.”

  “Touchy tonight, aren’t we?” Randy replied, sitting down in my recliner.

  “What do you want?” I said.

  He looked at Mike before answering. “I have some information for you. I went through those files I took home the other night, and I found the Ashton family tree. Stanley III had two brothers and a sister, but none of them benefited financially from his death. We already knew there were trust funds for the kids, and Amelia was his heir. Believe it or not, she’s been serving on the board at the bank for the last sixty years!”

  “Don’t they have a meeting every year?” I said.

  Randy nodded. “All board members are required to attend. I called a connection I have at the bank…”

  “Probably some blonde teller,” Mike remarked.

  “…and she did some checking,” Randy continued. “Amelia has been at every meeting.”

  “Maybe that’s why she’s in town right now,” Mike said.

  “Give that man a crumbled cookie,” Randy replied. “Today is Friday, and the meeting is Monday at nine sharp.”

  “She told me that she had been in town for a few days. Why did she come in so early if the meeting wasn’t until Monday?” I said.

  “Sounds like I need to have another chat with Mrs. Ashton tomorrow,” Mike said.

  Randy handed me the files and stood up. “I only came by to drop these off. I’m sure your head must be killing you. Don’t look at these until you feel better.” He bent over and gave me a kiss. “If you need anything, call.”

  “Thanks, Randy, I will.”

  He looked at Mike. “You better take good care of her, or you’ll have to answer to me.”

  “Forgive me if I don’t tremble and quake in fear.”

  Randy shook his head and left. Mike locked the door behind him, and looked out the window to his left. “Something wrong?” I asked him.

  “Just making sure he’s actually leaving and not camping out in his car all night.”

  “I can’t picture him doing something like that,” I replied as I picked up my dishes and stood up. “He loves his Egyptian cotton sheets too much.”

  “Are you sure he’s not gay?”

  “Just as sure as I know you’re straight.”

  “Cute,” he said. He followed me into the kitchen with his dishes. It only took ten minutes to clean up. I put the TV trays up, Mike moved the coffee table back to its original position, and we sat back down to watch the game. I glanced at the files next to me, and the temptation to look at them was too great.

  “Would you hand me my messenger bag?”

  Mike grabbed my bag and handed it to me. I took out my glasses and handed it back to him. “What are you going to
do?”

  “I just want to glance at these files.”

  “I didn’t know you wore glasses,” he said, sitting in the recliner.

  “Only when my eyes are tired and things look a little blurry.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t be reading anything.”

  “I want to know what’s in these files. Aren’t you curious?”

  “Not as much as you.” He turned his attention back to the game while I put my glasses on and started going through the files.

  It looks like Randy stopped by to see Jo, because there were financials for Amelia and the trust funds for Stanley IV and Cecilia. “Well, this is interesting,” I muttered.

  “What is?”

  “Huh?” I said, looking up.

  “You said something was interesting. What is it?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I had said that out loud. Do you promise not to get mad if I tell you?”

  Mike rolled his eyes. “At this point, I’m not going to be surprised at anything you say or do. So yes, I promise not to get mad.”

  I didn’t believe him for a minute, but I decided to chance it anyway. “I called Jo and asked her to look at the Ashton financial records.”

  “You what?!”

  “You promised you wouldn’t get mad!”

  He took a deep breath. “You’re right. Tell me.”

  “Come sit next to me so I can show you.” He moved over and sat on the couch. “Amelia’s account has fluctuated, but that’s to be expected. Cecilia’s trust fund was closed in 1968 when she passed away. It looks like the trust fund was divided between Amelia and Stanley IV. Amelia put her share into an interest-earning savings account. It doesn’t look like she’s used it much.”

  “How much was in Cecilia’s trust fund?”

  I flipped through the papers. “I’m not sure. I hope Stanley III’s will is in here; maybe that will tell us. But the amount in the savings account is about three million dollars. I don’t know how much of that is from interest.”

  Mike whistled. “That’s a lot of money.”

  “The Ashtons were in the banking business, remember? I’m sure Stanley III wanted to make sure that the kids were provided for, in case they wanted to go to college or something.” I pulled out another sheet. “But this is what’s interesting. This is the record for Stanley IV’s trust fund. Look at it,” I said, handing it to him.